Leo's eyelids flicked open, and his muscles protested the previous night. His arms and legs were heavy, and for a moment, he lay there, looking up at the rocky ceiling of the cave. The day flashed back to him—the stranger, the fight, the mirror, and the black goo.
He slowly got up, his hand instinctively reaching out to his right arm. The black substance still clung to it, a second skin. It wrapped around his forearm and moved as he shifted.
Leo scowls. That didn't disappear.
He scrubbed it, trying to scrape it away, but it would not budge. Neither wet nor sticky, just. unnaturally smooth. Felt nearly metallic, but gave under pressure.
Holding a steadying breath, he focused his mind. Move.
The slime trembled.
Leo's heartbeat pounded in his chest. He tried once more, imagining it unspooling.
To his surprise, the black matter unspooled, forming a tendril that flexed in and out gently before drawing back to its prior form.
"So, I can control it…" he snarled to himself.
Fatigue had been overcome by curiosity. If only he could make it move, then maybe.
He concentrated, this time imagining it hardening like armor. The goo reacted at once, flowing across his forearm and hardening. He tried a tap—it was firm, like strengthened leather.
A smile came and went. This would come in handy.
Leo pushed a little further and tried to shape it into something more specific. He pictured a dagger in his head, willed the goo to form a blade.
The material started to alter, stretching out of his hand like a bumpy, spiky form-but not a good dagger, more of a spike. The shape was unstable, and in a matter of seconds, it had melted back into goo.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue in frustration. Fine details were out of its league.
Something simpler, perhaps?
A crazy idea crossed his mind. What if he tried to shape it into… himself?
He focused, imagining his own shape, his own build and proportions. The goo quivered—then began to flow.
It adjusted and lifted into a shadowy humanoid shape in front of him. It stood his height, his build—even the pose. But with no features—not even a face, not an article of clothing. All just black, unfeatured silhouette.
Leo experienced the strange feeling of connection—such as a strap holding him in place to this figure.
Leo stepped forward. The black doppelganger duplicated him. Exactly.
Leo's eyes popped. It reacted to his step.
He lifted his arm. The clone did the same thing.
It wasn't like molding the goo—it wasn't something. It was… connected to him.
He tried to move it on its own, focusing on getting it to take a step forward without him doing so. The clone twitched, stumbled—then lurched forward.
Leo's breathing hitched. It worked.
But then—a wave of fatigue washed over him. His legs trembled, and a burst of dizziness forced him to grab onto the cave wall.
The black clone trembled… then collapsed back into goo.
Leo panted, his chest rising and falling. That's the price.
Using the goo took stamina.
The more complex the motion, the more exhausted he felt.
He wiped sweat from his brow, taking deep breaths to steady himself. It was powerful—but if he pushed too far, he'd be left defenseless.
"I need to use this carefully."
For now, he had learned enough. The black goo was a weapon—but one that could just as easily backfire if he wasn't careful.
Leo sighed and let his body rest against the cave wall. He'd test more later.
For now, he needed sleep.